


Just Another Pack Night

by wanderingeyre



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek Hale, Angst with a Happy Ending, Druid Stiles Stilinski, Emissary Stiles Stilinski, Fluff and Angst, Good Alpha Derek Hale, Happy Ending, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Mutual Pining, POV Stiles Stilinski, Pack Feels, Pack Nights, SO MUCH FLUFF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:41:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25407805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wanderingeyre/pseuds/wanderingeyre
Summary: Stiles is glad it’s Friday. Friday means two days off work and Friday night means pack nights at the Hale house. Pack nights are Stiles’s favorite night of the week.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 24
Kudos: 431





	Just Another Pack Night

The week has been long, stretched out by the pile of cases on his desk and a late night battle with some roving pixies that had wreaked havoc before the pack had caught them. Stiles is glad it’s Friday. Friday means two days off work and Friday night means pack nights at the Hale house. Pack nights are Stiles’s favorite night of the week. 

Before he leaves the Beacon Hills FBI Supernatural office, Stiles texts Derek.

**Stiles:** Did you get everything for the enchiladas?

**Derek:** I forgot cilantro and avocados

**Stiles:** I’ll grab them and get stuff for margaritas and pina coladas

**Derek:** Thanks :)

Stiles swings through the grocery store and the liquor store and is at the Hale house in less than forty-five minutes. His magic acknowledges the wards as he crosses the entrance to the drive, his tattoos flare blue then settle. The summer solstice is coming up and the wards will need to be strengthened then, but they are strong and tight for now and Stiles smiles. 

The pack rebuilt the house the summer after they graduated from high school. Some things are the same from when Derek’s family lived there, but they added a Widow’s Walk and expanded the back porch. The house is grey, blue, and white and something loosens in Stiles the moment he sees it. He only sleeps here once a week, but the feeling of being inside the wards on Hale property is still a drum of  _ home, safe, and pack - _ a constant in his blood. 

Stiles parks the Jeep next to the garage, glad to see he’s the first one here. The calm before the storm, when it’s just him and Derek preparing for the onslaught, is one of his favorite things about pack night. Stiles grabs the shopping bags and the backpack he packed this morning for a night with the pack. They all keep clothes here as often as they stay over, but Stiles always brings a new set, just in case. 

Stiles goes through the front door without knocking. The air is full of the smell of chicken, tomatoes, enchilada sauce, and cheese. Whatever residual stress he’s carried from the office melts away the moment he turns into the kitchen.

“Hey, Stiles,” Derek says without turning around.

Stiles drinks in the sight of Derek at the counter in jeans and t-shirt - the shirt Stiles gave Derek last winter solstice with a baby wolf howling at the moon. He allows himself the span of a heartbeat to feel the gravity that is Derek Hale in his life - wide, deep, and unrelenting. Then, Stiles shoves it all down and blocks his emotions with mental walls like Deaton taught him to. At the time, Deaton was teaching him to conceal his emotions from werewolves so he could act as a proper Emissary and Druid to the Hale Pack. Deaton doesn’t know that Stiles mostly uses it to hide his emotions from his pack mates, from his alpha. 

Stiles puts the bags on the counter and tosses his backpack into the corner, out of the way. He steps up beside Derek and runs a hand along Derek’s spine, enjoying the way the other man leans into Stiles’s touch. One benefit of being in a wolf pack - being able to touch Derek whenever he wants. Stiles is tactile and he may be an expert at shielding his emotions, but he’s glad he doesn’t have to resist his need to touch when it comes to Derek. It’s not all the touching Stiles wishes he could do, but it takes the edge off.

“I got the cilantro and avocados. Want me to make guacamole first or margaritas?” Stiles doesn’t move away from Derek, enjoying the excuse to be close.

Derek finishes rolling the enchilada in his hand and turns to look at Stiles. Derek’s eyes are too many colors for Stiles to name and he’s long since stopped trying to pinpoint exactly what color they are. Derek breathes in deep through his nose, scenting Stiles, and the corners of his mouth lift up. Stiles knows Derek does it to each pack member when they come into Derek’s vicinity after being away. It’s something all the non-human pack members do all the time, but it always feels intimate when Derek does it to him.

“I think you better make the guac. Malia and Kira can make drinks. They should be here any minute. Scott was picking them up after work.” Derek grabs a tortilla and scoops some filling from the bowl at his elbow. There are three pans of enchiladas already filled to the brim on the counter. It takes a lot of food to feed a pack of wolves… and other things.

Stiles unpacks the bags. “Good idea. Last time we made drinks without them, they accused us of drinking too many when we ran out early. Didn’t take into account that they are all terrible lushes.”

Richard comes into the kitchen, slow like he’s unsure if he’ll be welcome. His dark hair is shorter than when Stiles was here a couple of days ago and Richard’s eyes are less wide and fearful than when Scott had brought him to the pack house. Scott and Kira picked Richard up outside of San Francisco last week, alone and living on the streets. It always takes the new ones some time to settle in, to realize that the Hale pack has no ulterior motives except to help them get on their feet and find a pack. There is a tentative hope around the edges of Richard’s aura that Stiles doesn’t need his druid powers to see. 

Richard sits at the small kitchen table nestled into the bay window and watches the two of them. After years of searching out and rehabbing weres and other supernatural creatures, Stiles knows just the kind of encouragement Richard needs. The boy needs to know they aren’t going to kick him out on his furry ass before he’s ready.

“Do you know how to make guacamole?” Stiles asks the kid.

Large brown eyes blink at him. “No.”

“Want to learn? It’s super easy and everyone loves guacamole.”

Richard stands up slowly and comes to stand beside Stiles at the large island in the middle of the kitchen. Stiles shows him how to cut the avocados, scoop out the seeds, and how to mash them. He shows the boy what to add while he chops the cilantro for Derek.

“Avocados are a fruit, not a vegetable,” Stiles says while he chops. “Okay, add a squeeze of lime. Did you know that 53.3 million pounds of gauc is eaten every Super Bowl Sunday?” Stiles scoots the salt shaker over to Richard. “Shake some of that in there.” Stiles gives Derek a hip check as he finishes chopping. “Do you need all of this?”

Derek shakes his head. “No, about two-thirds of it should do. You can have the rest.”

“Richard, one of the keys to guac is what you put in it. Tonight, we have cilantro.” Stiles dumps some of the chopped herb into the bowl and Richard stirs it. Stiles adds a few more things to the bowl. “I mean avocados by themselves are good but guacamole is amazing.”

Stiles hands Richard a tortilla chip and they each take a healthy scoop.

Richard crunches thoughtfully. “It’s good.”

Instead of eating the chip in his hand Stiles moves the to the stove and offers it to Derek, who takes it without hesitation, smiling and he chews. “Great job, Richard,” he says, winking at Stiles. The boy smiles at the praise and Stiles smiles at Derek.

Soon, the food is in the oven and the pack is starting to arrive. Once Scott shows up, Richard stays close to him even though the pack is welcoming, as always. They greet Richard with hugs, touching him as they walk by. Part of what they do with the people they help is show them what a healthy pack looks and acts like. Their pack may be unusual, a mix of wolves, humans, and other things, but they are cohesive, they care for each other, and that is the most important thing for a family of any kind.

Malia, Erica, and Kira do not wait to be asked. They get to work making pitchers of drinks - wolfsbane laced ones for the wolves and regular pitchers for everyone else. Stiles takes the glass full of margarita from Malia and joins everyone on the back porch. The sun is just below the trees and the heat of the day is bleeding away as the sun dips. Boyd, Liam, Theo, Allison, and Richard are playing what looks like an extreme version of croquet that involves obstacles and tackling. It looks nothing like any game of croquet Stiles has ever seen. Stiles laughs as he sits in a chair by Scott. 

Derek is on Scott’s other side, relaxed and happy with his mouth curved into the ghost of a smile. Even while the pack poured into the house and the spaces became loud and full and happy, Stiles always knew where Derek was. His awareness of Derek is more potent than the ties he feels to the others, even Scott. Being Emissary and a Spark has tied him to all the members of the pack, but his awareness of Derek is the difference between the sun and a lightbulb. Stiles can turn in the direction of Derek, no matter how far apart they are. It’s both a comfort and an agony when Stiles allows himself to really lean into it, which is not often. He can feel Derek even with Scott between them now.

“How was the clinic today?” Stiles takes a sip from his drink. It’s tart and bursts on his tongue before he swallows it.

Scott gives him that easy smile. “Great. No emergencies, and a litter of puppies came in for a check up.” Scott finished his vet degree a year ago and came back to Beacon Hills to be Deaton’s assistant vet. Scott is gone so often looking for people that need their help that he could never own his own place, but Deaton understands Scott’s need to help in many facets. It’s a perfect arrangement for them both.

A fight breaks out in the grass. Malia has somehow joined the fray and has Boyd in a choke hold, which would be hilarious given their size discrepancy, but Boyd can’t shake her because she’s climbed on his back. Both of them are tackled by Theo and the entire pile tumbles to the ground and breaks into laughter.

Stiles relaxes back in his chair and sighs. “I love pack nights.” 

Derek stands up from his chair. “Oven timer is going off.”

Stiles couldn’t hear it, but he stands and yells. “Dinner in five,” before following Derek into the kitchen. 

Stiles gets all the plates and things out and starts setting up a food line while Derek pulls pans of food out of the oven. Stiles can’t pinpoint the exact time he and Derek started working together like this to care for the pack, but they do it seamlessly now. They’re like an old married couple with a bunch of unruly teenagers who eat their weight in food. Stiles loves it. Derek brushes Stiles as he walks by, putting the last pan of enchiladas on the counter, and that side of Stiles’s body burns with the contact before he tucks the sensation away. One day, things might move forward, but for now things are pretty damn good.

After dinner, Lydia, Richard, and Boyd clean the kitchen. Lydia even gets Richard to laugh, which Stiles counts as forward progress, then everyone piles into the living room and fights over seating and what they’re going to watch. The living room contains a large sectional sofa, two overstuffed loveseats, and an assortment of bean bags and large cushions on the floor. A chest with blankets for the humans sits under one of the windows. Malia, Lydia, and Allison end up in a tangle on top of a pile of cushions, the three of them giggling and rolling around like puppies though none of them are wolves. After a vote, and some glares from Stiles, they choose The Mummy and settle in. Derek saves Stiles a spot on the couch and Stiles falls into the small space left between Derek and Kira.

Stiles’s body wants to be in motion, but he stills himself and allows all the contact and proximity to the pack to wash over him. He looks around the room, at this group of people that have saved his life so many times over he’s forgotten to remember them all. After his mom died, Stiles thought it would always be just him and his dad. He never bargained for this kind of family, but it is exactly the family he needed. It’s only missing his dad, but the Sheriff is working late tonight. 

Stiles snuggles into Derek’s side and Derek puts an arm around Stiles. Stiles swears Derek leans close and takes a subtle sniff of the top of his head, but Stiles doesn’t give any indication that he knows or how the gesture melts everything inside him. Kira leans into Scott and tucks her feets under Stiles’s leg and they watch the movie like that. It’s perfect.

After the first movie, another one gets started, but half the group goes outside to sit on the porch or lay in the grass and look at the stars. Stiles follows the group outside, a bottle of dark rum in his hand. He sits in the cool grass, takes a sip from the bottle, and passes it to Malia. She sips it, leans over and kisses Allison, then hands the bottle over. The bottle goes around the circle a couple of times, then they are all laughing and telling stories with tongues loosened by booze. 

Stiles listens and digs his awareness into the grass beneath him, tendrils of power feeling out the grass, trees, and animals around them. The pack lands pulse back, strong and healthy, protected and loved. The tattoos on Stiles’s arms spark blue and the power of it fills him up. No one comments on Stiles evervescence. 

A sudden wildness seizes Stiles’s heart and he stands. His arms are still glowing and he needs to find Derek.

Stiles knows exactly where Derek is and he slips inside and up three sets of stairs to the Widow’s Walk on top of the house. It’s wider than is customary, more like a porch resting between the turrets of the house to accommodate a large number of people. Stiles’s tattoos calm down and wink out when he sees Derek sitting on the front edge of the porch, feet dangling over the side, watching the pack below. Stiles drops down beside him. Their bodies are flush together on one side with no space between them while their other sides are open to the cool night air. Stiles’s heart still beats with a wild sound and he thinks that even his body knows he is two halves, one full of need and one full of denial.

“Tonight is a good night.” Stiles says in the darkness, unable to be silent long.

“Pack nights are always good nights.” Derek’s voice is low, but Stiles has no problem hearing it as the sounds reverberates across his skin like a physical touch.

“You’re a good Alpha,” Stiles says because he can see a tinge of sadness in Derek’s aura when he looks at him too close and Stiles has learned to read Derek’s moods. “You’ve built something here that matters.”

Derek turns to look at him then. “I didn’t do it alone.”

The words feel heavy with meaning. The moon will be full in a few days and Stiles can see Derek’s eyes in the moonlight, open and honest. 

Stiles is not sure why he asks the next question. “Do you ever wish you had your real family here and not a ragtag bunch of teens and barely adults you found and adopted off the street?” 

Derek shifts his weight so that it presses into Stiles and wraps his fingers around Stiles’s wrist, resting his fingers on Stiles’s pulse point. The heat from Derek’s touch flares everywhere and Stiles lets his reaction go unchecked for the first time since he learned to shield himself. 

Stiles knows the moment Derek can sense the change, can smell the waves of peace and need and desire rolling off him. Derek’s eyes widen and he stills.

Derek’s hand tightens subtly around Stiles’s wrist. “I miss them, every day. But this,” Derek uses his free hand to gesture to the group on the lawn, “is my family, my pack. It’s not where I thought I’d be, but I wouldn’t trade them for anything. I wouldn’t trade  _ you _ for anything. I wouldn’t want a pack without you in it, Stiles.”

The way Derek says his name sounds like a plea and a truth that Derek has held in too long. Before he can change his mind, Stiles cups Derek’s face and places a soft kiss on his lips. Derek’s breath hitches right before his free hand threads itself through Stiles hair and pulls him closer, deepening their kiss.

When they break apart, Stiles runs a thumb over Derek’s lip and Derek’s hand squeezes the back of Stiles’s neck. 

“I’m sorry,” Stiles says.

“I’m not,” Derek’s smile flattens out.

Stiles shakes his head. “No, I mean, not for kissing you. That was perfect.'' Derek's lips tick back up and Stiles plows forward. “I’m sorry I waited so long to do that.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t do it first.” Derek’s eyes travel over Stiles’s face.

“We have plenty of time ahead of us,” Stiles leans back in to kiss Derek, but is interrupted by a whoop from below. 

Cora is walking to the house from the garage. “It’s about time,” she yells up at them. “Scottie, you owe me twenty bucks.”

“Dammit,” Scott stands from the circle on the grass and slaps a bill into Cora’s outstretched hand. He yells up at Stiles and Derek. “Derek, you could’ve saved me some money and kissed him first.” Scott flops back onto the grass. 

“Still not sorry.” Derek kisses Stiles again. 

It’s a long time before they go back inside. 


End file.
